American Idol: Wednesday Recap (5/3)
5 become 4…
by Frank Pittarese“Five faces, but only four places,” Seacrest says. “Who’s going home?” This is American Idol, bub.
Carmen Electra, of all people, applauds furiously as Seacrest welcomes us to the show. He thanks us for voting last night (I didn’t, but you’re welcome, Ryan), and tells us almost 45-and-a-half million votes came in last night. The judges are introduced, followed by the Final Five, seated nervously on the couch.
Meet and greet. Chris is doing well (and lookin’ fiiine). Taylor is glad to be there—everybody is talented, he says. Katharine thinks it’s “a whole different ballgame” now that there are only five people left on this ship of fools, and she’s starting to feel the pressure. Paris is always hyper, and it’s a great thing to see and perform with her cohorts. Elliott sees himself in a pool of his own sweat at the Kodak Theatre on finale night. I see Taylor slipping in said pool, right on his fat ass, and life is worth living all over again.
Seacrest literally sends the group scrambling at that point. Katharine runs this way. Katharine runs that way. Elliott dodges a friendly smack from Seacrest. It’s time for the Group Sing. We haven’t had one of these in ages, and they’re a really terrific part of the show. Unless you’ve been to an animal testing lab, you’ve never heard anything that sounds like the Group Sing. Seacrest pushes the "Idols on Tour" tour, which features the whole gang of twelve aborting songs left and right, live and in person. Kellie will warble. Kevin will lisp. Ace will stare vacantly. Taylor will provide bathroom breaks. They’ll all be there, in 40 cities, nationwide. Unfortunately, the closest they’ll get to me is upstate New York, which sucks ‘cause I’d totally go if they were at Madison Square Garden. (Dumb move, arena-choosing tour people!)
The song is called ‘Together We Are One.’ Chris gets to start things off. It’s a ballad that…what is this? Is someone taking the piss? This song sounds like it was written by a bunch of high school students. “Write a graduation song! Winning tune to be featured on American Idol!” It’s not unlike that Vitamin C graduation classic, ‘Friends Forever.’ Bland, with stupid lyrics rhymed stupidly, and backed by “inspirational” music. Taylor follows Chris, waving his Hand of Sincerity, then Kat glory notes all over the stage. When the whole Scooby-gang joins in, at which point the Magic of Suck really happens. It’s pretty awesome. They’re all so stone-faced. Are they reading the lyrics off a teleprompter? An entire chorus of, like, 20 singers take to the stage to provide back-up. They should attack the Idolers like those infected people in 28 Days Later. Chaotic violence and live TV are a match made in Heaven. Paris wails out a bridge, leading to the big finish. She’s in her element with this sorta thing, but I think Chris is contemplating suicide.
The audience loves it. How can’t you? It’s awful! More, please. Melissa Gilbert claps from the crowd. She’s there with her little boy. Behind her, Season Two runner-up Justin Guarini stands and ovates. We see him twice tonight, and neither time does he get an I.D. caption, nor is he addressed directly. They hate him that much. Kevin Nealon got more play.
Ford Ad. This week’s song is ‘Hollywood Swinging,’ a funky tune from the ’70s which Taylor and I remember from our childhoods. In this one, the Idolers drive through through the intersection of “Hollywood and Weird” in their Ford vehicle, and view what can best be described as a series of human oddities on the streets of L.A. (or the back lot of the studio). There’s a punk rocker with fairy wings! Somebody with crazy hair! A dog on a skateboard! Break-dancing gymnasts! Tough-looking bikers—on banana bikes! Such comedy. In the end, the Five get out of their car and…well…they're in costume, people.
Left to right and comin’ at ya: Paris, wearing a wide orange afro and looking like Tina Turner-drag-queen-gone-crackhead; Chris, with a huge top hat on his head, a black sleeveless vest and holding a cane. He looks like he's about to pull a rabbit out of his hat, then skin it alive; Elliott, thugged out (of course), with a red streak in his hair, wearing a basketball uniform, chains, and bouncing a soccer ball. Kat, the most dignified of the group, in a tight blue dress with purple “tears” in it (it’s not bad…a little 1984, by way of the Mary Jane Girls, but in this group, she looks like the sane one); and Taylor, hair spiked out, and dressed like that gasoline-crazy biker from The Road Warrior.
Back live. Elliott is cracking up, as usual, and Paris is rolling on him. Kat is losing her shit, as well. Weren’t they there that day? Is there some sort of memory-wipe involved in shooting these things?
Seacrest says that the buzz is that Paula was “the best of the three” judges last night. Simon says that he goes by the official polls which say that 78 percent of the people agree with him. He thinks that figure is low.
We clip reel to last night’s show. Everybody sang two songs. Paris wanted our extra time and our kiss. Simon found her screechy and annoying. Paula wanted a “Paris flip” on her second song. Chris took on Styx, then went all cracky-voice. Taylor cheated his way out of the category by singing a Beatles song, after jackassing his way hither and yon to the tune of ‘Play that Funky Music.’ Ryan hit the floor and demonstrated how he spent last Saturday night. Kat bounced around on her knees, singing a crazy-catchy song that no one ever heard before. In an effort to screw with our minds, Seacrest comments on Simon’s “next critique,” which clearly regards Katharine’s first performance. Note to the producers: if you’re going to retcon events on this show, then don’t show the footage. Buffoonery. Simon liked ‘Against All Odds,’ then didn’t. Or something. Elliott sang ‘On Broadway,’ then wanted to go ‘Home.’ So who will go home tonight? I guessed Paris. Let’s see…
But first, Seacrest informs the kids that next week they’re going to Graceland for a special “Elvis workshop,” and training with music mogul Tommy Mottola. I hope to God there isn’t an Elvis impersonator anywhere near next week’s show, because I don’t think I can watch it, let alone recap it.
So, who’s going home? Let's start with the Bottom Two.
Taylor is safe. Chris is safe. Paris is—not safe.
Seacrest has Paris take the stage to sing ‘Kiss’ again. Guess this took her by surprise, because she proceeds to take a piece of gum out of her mouth and puts it right smack in Seacrest’s wee hand. Her performance is the same as last night’s, except this time her mic pack falls from it’s place on her waist. Seacrest catches up to her, bopping along with the music while trying to replace the thing. Unfortunately, the crackerjack director goes in for a closeup on Paris at the end of the song, but it’s pretty clear that Ryan was doing a bit of awkwardly comedic dancing up there with Paris. She’s a peppy ball of fun.
Back from commerical.
Elliott or Katharine? American voted. Katharine is…safe!
Elliott sings ‘On Broadway’ for the second time. He looks less relaxed than last night, for obvious reasons, and he’s back to sweating, which I haven’t seen him do since the earlier weeks of the competition. Jeez, Ell, stop with all the runs. That Mariah Carey stuff doesn’t work for you. Sell it with your voice.
Our Bottom Two, Paris and Elliott, stand side by side. America voted. Elliott may sit down, and Paris will leave us tonight. She’s not terribly bothered, although having B-Threed so many times, she had to be ready for this.
‘Bad Day’ Montage. Paris channeling the voice of Ella Fitzgerald at auditions! Hugs from Rod Stewart! Hugs from Manilow! Hugs from Stevie Wonder! Hugs from Brian May! The many costumes and hair styles of Paris! A piggyback from Elliott! Another hug—from Kellie! Crying at eliminations! Wrapping up a photo shoot!
Seacrest tells Paris she’s very brave, then tells us to watch “the shocking conclusion of Unan1mous. You won’t believe how it all ends.” I did watch it, and ya know what? It doesn’t end till next week.
Paris sings us out with ‘Be Without You.’ The Idolers gather’round on stage as the credits roll and my DVR loses interest in recording any further. Goodbye, Paris. You were one strange little old lady.
Be here next week for the butchering of Elvis songs, and the countdown to F3…
